


no way but this

by sleepdrunk



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 14:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepdrunk/pseuds/sleepdrunk
Summary: Jesus. A planet had been annihilated, and the remaining sentient population was at risk of being killed off by its own mating drive. Bones frowned. So Spock was most likely not alone in his predicament. The likelihood that a surviving Vulcan adult had lost their intended or full-fledged bondmate was high, and even if they were all paired off at random--Bones paused, digesting the quandry. If every Vulcan was as stubborn as Spock was, they were doomed.





	1. doctor, play thou thy part

**Author's Note:**

> Written Summer of 2017.
> 
> I am posting this yet agaiiiin. I'll post it over the next week or so to give it minor edits. I haven't been writing for a long time, so uh here you go. 
> 
> P.S. I saved every single last comment from when this was posted before, and I appreciate all of them; as well as every single kudos and every single reader. Thank you so much you guys, whether or not this story is new to you. I love you all <3

_“‘Let me help.’ A famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He’ll recommend those three words even over ‘I love you’.”_

 

\---

“So he’s gonna die.” Jim ran a rough hand over his face, calloused skin running roughshod over sensitized skin. “That’s it. Nothing we can do.” 

“I don’t know.” McCoy sat next to Jim on a two-seater in the officer’s mess, a tall bottle of whiskey on the table before them. Through a picture window a few paces away, the expanse of space flew by . He grasped the bottle and topped up his glass, then Jim’s. “It’s…dire, Jim.” He glared into his liquor as if it were withholding answers. “He refuses treatment, based on his delusional belief that he’ll kill someone. 

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. “God damn it.” he said, with a grimace. “I could kill him myself.” 

Jim took a drink.

“We need to make arrangements. For… _well._ ” He tossed back the rest, swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Try not to think about it,” Bones said in a soft tone. “We’ve sent off messages to New Vulcan.

Jim shuddered. He tried and failed to stifle a low, mournful sound. Bones put a hand on his shoulder, and he crumpled.

“My God.” Jim said, melting into his friend’s shoulder. “Spock.” 

He gathered him in an embrace. “Ah shit, Jim. I am so sorry, I should’ve known. I should’ve been able--” 

Jim shook his head, cutting Bones off. “No,” he managed. “Not your fault.” Bones squeezed him and rubbed his back. They sat in silence for a long moment. “He said it himself, nobody can stop this. He will die if he’s not with his _intended_ , and she’s dead.” 

_Jesus._ A planet had been annihilated, and the remaining sentient population was at risk of being killed off by its own mating drive. Bones frowned. So Spock was most likely not alone in his predicament. The likelihood that a surviving Vulcan adult had lost their intended or full-fledged bondmate was high, and even if they were all paired off at random--

Bones paused, digesting the quandry. If every Vulcan was as stubborn as Spock was, they were doomed. But surely they were working on the problem. 

“Well that’s a damned design flaw,” he said at last, trying for levity. “Maybe he can ride it out. Maybe...if we can get electrolytes and sedatives into him, we can buy enough time.” 

“I don’t understand,” Jim said. “I told him that I loved him.” Jim started to worry at his fingernails, grimacing as the tears returned. The doctor tried to convey support through his touch. He didn’t know the whole story yet, of course; but he was beginning to feel like he might be mighty angry at Spock. 

Jim’s hitched breaths pulled at his heart and he softened. I didn’t know that, Sugar.” He tousled his hair. “I can’t imagine the pain. I’m sorry.” 

“He said it back, you know. I think he does.”

“Love you?” He sighed. “Jim, I think anyone who saw Spock in the last year knows he loves you.” 

“He won’t talk to me. I can’t even say goodbye.”

Bones rocked him gently. A plan began to form in his mind, all hesitance dissolving in the liquor and desperation. Jim stared blankly in the direction of a picture window opposite them, whole worlds appearing and disappearing as they cruised by, reduced to nothing more than pinpricks of light.

“C’mon. You try and get some sleep, at least for a few hours.” 

He had work to do.


	2. no way but this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Outworlder? You’re on a starship, you stubborn bastard. We’re all outworlders._

 

I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this;

Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

\- Othello

“You smell like him,” Spock croaked. His eyes were tinged with green and his throat was raw.

“Jesus Christ, through the _door_?” 

“Yes, Doctor.” He sat on a narrow bed, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and nothing else. His legs dangled down and he sagged back against the unforgiving white wall at an awkward angle. He supported himself on his elbows, fingers picking at the mattress. “Especially _that_ smell.” 

“You gotta let me in there. You’re so dehydrated, your blood’s probably more like molasses at this point.”

“I cannot.” He kicked his feet idly against the bed and he looked painfully young.

“You--” Bones’ heart clenched. “You haven’t eaten since you locked yourself in there. ‘Sides, fever like that? Gonna cause neural damage. Maybe it already has.”

“That is an unfortunate reality of the sickness. Artificially reconstituting my health would be unwise, doctor.” He fixed his gaze squarely on the doctor. Sharp, alien features were exaggerated by a loss of mass, yet his sinewy strength quivered with unspent energy. “I would likely redouble my efforts to-- to _attack_ Jim.” 

“You-- what’dya mean _attack_? You attacked Christine when she tried to give you a shot.” A half smile erupted on his face. “And I must say, she sure took you down fast. ‘Woman could put a Gorn in a chokehold on a good day.” 

“She is a most admirable officer.”

“You didn’t hurt her, Spock.”

“I attempted to do so, _Doctor._ Malicious intent, regardless of outcome--”

“Nah, don’t give me that guff. You ever work in a hospital?”

Spock paused, puzzled. “No--”

“Then you don’t know first hand. _Everyone_ turns into an idiot when they’re seriously ill.”

“I should have been able to fight it. I am Vulcan. I--”

“Bullshit. Bones’s sinuses felt like they were about to cave in.

“It is a product of the body. The body can be overcome. The mind must control the body.” 

“ _Pon Farr_ is a biological _event,_ Spock.”

“I would be grateful if you did not speak of that which is so sacred and private. The word sounds vulgar on the tongue of an outworlder.” 

“Outworlder? You’re on a starship, you stubborn bastard. We’re all outworlders. And our primitive Earth doctors figured out ages ago that it isn’t mind over matter, and to lie and blame sick and disabled people for their illnesses is _cruel._ ”

Spock narrowed his eyes, his mouth curling into a weak snarl. His green-ringed eyes sank into his skull, heavy bags underneath them. 

“Vulcans do not--” his own coughing stopped him mid sentence. 

“Your _entire species_ goes through it,” McCoy interjected. He winced. The entirety of the Vulcan race was a dwindling number. “Look. I’m your doctor. Everything about you, private or otherwise, is sacred to me.” Spock blinked at him, incredulous. “I know you’re suffering. Get nasty all you want, I ain’t leavin’.”

Spock sat in silence for a moment. His face was blank and he stared into the middle distance. To the observer, it was anyone’s guess as to whether he was considering acquiescence, or hurtling toward unconsciousness.

“Come on, Spock. Don’t do this to Jim. Command is so lonely. I’m all he’s got on this whole damned ship, except for you.”

“Please, _Doctor_ McCoy.” His voice oozed from his constricted throat, his teeth bared; lips catching on bared teeth. “Save me your well-practiced routine of coercing a patient.” 

Bones stood. 

“Coerce? Now just you listen here you cold, little-- I’m pouring my heart out for you here. Of all the heartless, selfish god damned performances--”

_“Performance!”_ Spock screamed back, his voice breaking. “Perjoratives! And so soon after such lovely speech. Is this how your people express caring? Pestering, refusal to respect deeply personal decisions?” 

“My people? Oh, you mean humans-- the people who took you in wholesale as one of their own despite you calling us stupid at every turn? And speaking of sacred cows-- if this _event_ is so special, how come you have no idea how to survive it?”

“...And into prolonging a life to which the end is a forgone and _accepted_ conclusion. I--”

“Jesus.” McCoy crossed his arms. “Jesus Christ. Don’t do this to me!” Bones was shouting at the top of his lungs through his sticky throat. ”Don’t do this to me, and my best friend, and the man you love.” 

A pause. Spock swallowed.

“Love does not leave room for violence and intimate violation of another life.”

“God,” McCoy cursed low, the fight coming out of him with his breath. He slapped the glass with a flat palm. “Damn you. It _isn’t_ a violation. He--

“Jim does not fully realize--”

“Would you shut up and listen to me? _Jim Kirk_ is not a fucking idiot. As much as I hate to admit it-- I wanted to stick you in a freezer, head to New Vulcan and hope for the best-- but Jim. Jim can handle whatever you throw at him.”

Spock was silent. 

“Now-- that being said. _What_ did you mean when you said you tried to hurt Jim?” 

A fire sprung forth from behind the doctor’s honest amber eyes. Spock felt entirely compelled to answer him-- and through no mere trick of _coercion._ Of Leonard’s many talents, this was the most powerful and most seldom used-- that rare ability to summon enough righteous anger as to compel the truth. 

“Spock?” The name shot off of his tongue like gunpowder. 

“Perhaps I have not clarified. The violence of which i speak is not--” he paused. “Physical. It is a violence against the psyche. I wish-- I wished to force the meeting of our minds even before I felt the coming fever. I have always felt this--” Spock was shaking, leaning forward. He pointed a long, thin foot toward the floor and lurched into a standing position. He stiffened suddenly, all at once, and let out a loud groan.

Bones shouted and beat on the glass as he watched Spock fall to his knees with a sickening crack and crumpled to the floor. 

“Spock! Fuck--” he turned his head, his hand to his mouth. “Code-- _fuck!_ ” He moved back through medbay at a jog. “I need a god damned battering ram! _Chapel!”_


	3. Chapter 3

_Medbay_

“Hi, Spock.” 

Leonard’s hand cradled Spock’s skull, turned to the side. His face glowed with relief, his eyes lined with dew. There was a streak of darkening green blood on his forehead, and his hair was in complete disarray. His tricorder hung from his neck, the cord cutting into the skin on his neck, leaving a red line. 

“Leonard…” Spock said slowly, his tongue thick and lazy. He was lying on the floor and was uncertain as to how he had gotten there. The lights on the grey ceiling were dimmed but still too bright. 

“You had a seizure. You’re in my sickbay on the _Enterprise_.” 

Ah. Spock blinked. His head ached terribly. His eyes felt hot and pressurized, and his body felt as though it had been put through a wringer. The air in his tight, raw lungs was arid. He tried to focus on the doctor’s face, but found it impossible to process what he was being told. 

“That’s okay, Spock. I’ll explain when you’re feeling better-- you just rest. As soon as my orderlies get here, we’re going to take you to a quiet room to recover.” 

He made a shaky sound of protest in response, but couldn’t form words. 

“No. Don’t you worry, now. You’re not going to hurt anyone.” Leonard’s free hand was strong and warm where he reached across to grasp Spock’s upper arm. “Not with the drugs coursing through your system, anyhow. Here they are-- now, we’re going to lift you onto a gurney--” 

Two orderlies appeared. Leonard looked up at one of them, and kept his hand under Spock’s head until it was replaced by a small, firm cushion. There was a metallic slide as the gurney was collapsed to floor level, and Len stood to let them work. There were strong hands on Spock’s body and he could hear them coordinating, and then he was being lifted. His back protested and he shouted. He heard McCoy barking at them to “be careful, for Christ’s sakes,” but in seconds he was laid out on the narrow stretcher. Another clatter and he was elevated to waist height. As they rolled the cart, there was an audible crunching, and the bed shook a little on the uneven ground. 

Leonard must have caught his look of consternation. He appeared at Spock’s side. “Had to use a battering ram to get to you. Scotty’s gonna kill me-- but then, I’m gonna kill him for refusing to using the transporter to get me inside.” 

The gurney began to move, rough and shaky over broken glass and other debris. “There we go, almost there. Now, Spock. You had a grand-mal seizure. Your condition, the _Plak Tow_ appears quite similar to encephalitis. I want to do some more tests, but first we have to get you stabilized. I want you set up in bed before we enter warp.”

“Altair--” 

“There’s been… a change of plans. I’ll fill you in later. Don’t worry. Now--”

But the doctor was cut short. The ship seized and the ambient lights changed to pulsing red. Spock groaned again, his entire body going tense; his back arching in the extreme. 

“Shit! Hold on.” He injected Spock’s neck with a benzo, nearly missing as the ship heaved. 

\---

_Bridge_

“Warp speed, Mister Sulu. Factor five.”

“Aye-aye, Sir.” 

The air on the bridge was thick with apprehension. They had been en route to Altair VI for the presidential inauguration when Spock’s condition had taken a turn for the worse. All they’d gotten out of him was that the “blood fever” had begun, and judging by McCoy’s readings, it was exactly as bad as it sounded.

That was before Spock had a seizure. 

Jim sent out urgent transmissions to Komack requesting immediate medical aid for Spock; Vulcan if possible. Every message had bounced back. 

The Altair system was no more. The two other flagships slated for attendance: vanished. 

Navigational cartography of the explored galaxy showed Altair sitting bright and peaceful, an oasis for weary spacefarers-- even if the Klingons weren’t happy about it. But there was nothing there. It had been his last hope. 

Jim’s face was ashen. His nails dug into the armrests and he tried to focus on expanding his diaphragm-- _in, out… in… out._

_\---_

One week previous

_“Why, Spock? Why won’t you let me help?” Jim banged his head back against frosted glass, the last barrier between them._

_Though his position mirrored Jim’s on the other side, Spock said nothing._

_“I’m so sorry. I know you’re terrified. I wish I knew why. Please, Spock. Whatever you’re afraid of, I can deal with it.”_

_The shadow against the glass remained stubbornly silent, but Jim knew he could hear him._

_“Damn you.” He said, a whisper. His heart was a cold, aching thing; a hungry maw made ugly with fruitless struggle. He was impotent; useless-- full only with a rage borne of rejection and grief._

_“For three days, Spock.” His voice resonated clear in the small chamber. “For three fucking days, I have been preparing myself to spend the rest of my life grieving your death. And I’ve tried to make peace with it-- to respect your decision. ”_

_“Jim—“_

_“But that’s not it. I can’t accept it. I can’t--” He was losing his grip. The words were plump with venom. Strong emotions regarding Spock weren’t new by any stretch, and he was familiar with the raw burn of grief-- that pitiable quality of James T. Kirk to rail against senseless loss of life; to cling to what he loved when even hope was lost._

_But this screaming desperation was not normal. Some section of his rational brain had been shoved into the background. Since the day Spock had begun to exhibit what he now knew were symptoms of_ Pon Farr _, it had been all he could do to stay sane. His heart was an abyss; a supermassive black hole that demanded only one thing:_ Spock. _He knew he loved Spock since the early days of their deployment together, but kept it inside. A rocky courtship ensued-- dodging the demands of shared command. Respecting Spock’s reservations; ignoring the searing pain of his oft-rejected human side, which by extension rejected Kirk. But now… since the day Spock had manhandled Christine in Sickbay, and had been manhandled himself in kind by the no-nonsense nurse, it was different. Spock had embraced him with a wretched intensity, his dark eyes full of hope and fear. He reached for Jim’s face, fingers splayed oddly-- the mind meld. In the end he only just touched Jim’s cheekbone and his lips before wrenching himself away, and sealed himself in Sickbay._

_“I have to live with the knowledge that I could have helped you, and you refused me. That your death was because of… because of what, Spock? I could understand if we were incompatible…”._

_“Jim, you misunderstand me.” He sighed, the last of the fight slipping away.. Spock’s breaths came in slow, but too shallow, his head tilted back against the glass. Everything ached._

_“Do I, Spock? Because I did as much digging as I possibly could. I hacked VSA files, for Chrissakes—-” he flashed a joyless smile to no-one.—- “I’ll end up court martialled.”_

_“Jim--”_

_“I know about bonds. I know about the supposed ferocity of_ Pon Farr _joinings. I know it’s a huge commitment. But you can have it broken, right?”_

_Spock snapped to attention. Jim continued._

_“I mean...If you don’t want me for your mate. I know I can’t ever understand what it’s like to be Vulcan, but… I know we’re 'compatible', at least enough to see you through.” He tried to smile. That tender and understanding brilliance returned, his eyes drenched in sadness. “Please, Spock. I can’t understand why you can’t let me help you survive this. You’ll only have to put up with me in your head for a few weeks, tops. I swear.” He turned round and sat on his knees, hand on the glass._

_“Jim, your presence would never be unwelcome,” Spock groaned. He remained still, slumped back. To Jim, he looked like nothing more than a death-shroud; black and lifeless. “My time came upon me and I touched you and in my weakness, initiated a bond. It was that bonding which brought about the blood fever.” His words broke forward slow and lazy as he struggled to focus._

_“You_ what? _Spock!” he said, an outburst._

_“I am sorry,_ Ashayam _. I have accepted my fate._

_“Spock? Spock!” Jim repeated, volume rising in desperation, but there was no response. He pounded the glass, palm flat. He thought for a shining moment that Spock was about to turn around, but his body was merely slumping further down. Spock was unconscious._

_\----_

_Bridge_

He didn’t know how long they had, but he knew it wasn’t much longer. Bones had said eight, maybe ten days at the most. Thank god for Sulu and Chekov and Scotty-- they had calculated the fastest way to New Vulcan in the Simon-316 system, but they were so far away that he couldn’t be sure their message had been received. They would have to divert outside of the explored galaxy. Nevertheless, they plotted the course and proceeded. 

The constant, reassuring vibration of his vessel under his feet increased in intensity as the power radiated out from her warp core. The energy reached a peak intensity before smoothing out once more, and stars that once streaked by now shot by. The full spectrum of visible light-- but which rainbow was this, he wondered; the rainbow hues _linked to divine sanction for war,_ or the _glistening colours of the rainbow_ rising from the fountain of immortality. 

Spock would have liked that, Jim thought. That ambiguity of meaning; that refusal of rainbows to pick a side and provide mankind with a prophecy. And yet, in that same ambiguity, a message-- one the one hand, a holy war. On the other, renaissance. 

Warp technology arose from the ashes of a planet at war and gave birth to an unfathomable age. That same rainbow road led man directly to bloody battle once more. Full speed ahead-- to save this or that dying species. Bring medication and food. Intervene and mediate and save billions of souls. 

Divine love. Divine wrath. 

The vibrant array onscreen shook and spun. He engaged his restraints as they dropped out of warp.

Klaxons blared. “Sir, we have encountered a compact mass field.” Choppy waters. “Acknowledged, Mister Sulu.” He engaged the intercom. “All decks, batten down.” Again to Sulu; “full impulse power. What’s the status of the host star?” 

Yeoman Landon replied instead from her post at Spock’s station. “Status Neutron Star, likely Status Neutron for the last two centuries. We are skirting the limits of its gravity well, sir. ”

“Acknowledged. Tread carefully.” 

“Sir,” Sulu addressed him. “Advise that in these conditions, our vessel has a _de facto_ displacing hull.” 

“Keep an eye on it, Mister.” 

“Incoming -- unidentified vessel,” _Majel_ declared. 

Uhura clarified. “Dead astern. Unidentifiable. Gunship, looks similar to _Dryad_ class. Planing hull.” So there it was-- whatever race or races existed here could not live within the dying star system, but knew well how to navigate. 

“Red Alert.” He got up, dusting himself and returned to the chair. “I thought these were uncontested stars, _Maj_. Uhura-- wide band hail.” 

“Aye, sir.”

The bridge lights turned red and pulsated, save for the white emergency lights close to the ground. 

_Majel_ ’s calm, cool voice floated over the intercom. 

“Depth charge deployed. Warning. Depth charge deployed.” 

He slammed open the ship-wide comm channel. “Brace! Brace!” he barked.

A cylindrical object appeared in the navigation system and it bounced horizontally eight times on the surface of the gravitational field. It had a wicked backspin; each bounce shorter than the last. On the last bounce, it plunged abeam. The depth triggered a pneumostatic pistol and it exploded and blew apart. 

The explosion rocked the _Enterprise._

“Hull breach. Depressurization of cabin imminent. Life support systems failing.” _Majel_ ’s bedside manner always left him wanting, but at least he knew what was going on.

“Evasive maneuvers as best we can, helmsman. Mister Uhura, do we know where that gunner went?”

“Vessel disappeared behind an asteroid, sir. Repeated attempts to hail have gone unanswered. Broadcasted red lozenge ignored as well.” Her hands flew across the station, eyes darting back and forth as she made mental calculations. “Here it comes again, sir. Dead ahead.” Her voice was clear and resonant. “Charge deployed sir!” she shouted, just as the AI announced the same.

“Charge deployed. Warning. Imminent--”

Over the intercom again, “All decks! Brace for impact!” Sulu, _get us out of here._ Full steam ahead. _”_

“Aye sir. Initiating warp drive,” Sulu replied. Pavel had been working next to him, all but silent, save for acknowledging orders. He spoke now. 

“ _Sair_ , due to the gravitational field, there is high risk of matter-antimatter reactions being fully absorbed. Furthermore, depending how close this star is to full death, entering warp may feed the growth of the black hole. Ewen-- _even_ if this does not happen, the strain will be immense as we pull out of the field. Metal fatigue could prove disastrous.” “Acknowledged, Mister Chekov. Helmsman, start with warp five. Should be enough to break out of the field’s pull, but not so much we rip in half.” Engaging the comm again, he ordered all compromised decks to evacuate. “All personnel forward of the warp reactor will immediately draw in. Follow standard protocol. Safety first.”

“Engaging warp drive.”

\----

_I trust you_

_to be stronger than each storm within me._

_I will trust in the darkness and know_

_that my times, even now, are in your hand._

_Tune my spirit to the music of heaven._

_Adapted from a prayer to St. Brendan, the Voyager_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> giggidy

They were out. By some miracle, they were out-- the ship shaking into a shrieking, twisting warp space and Jim could taste death on the tip of his tongue like sharp iron blood. The short jump stretched into hours in that liminal space; a lifetime to watch what he loved slip away and mere seconds to grapple the realization that he might lose eight hundred souls along with his own-- robbing their families of the final mercy of certainty. 

But...they were out. 

His lady emerged from warp space and into inky blackness. She slowed to a near halt with a groan. All but the emergency lights flickered before they were extinguished. 

Jim could see no stars. With navigation offline, and not even an alien star to follow, he felt the clutching horror of being truly lost. 

\---

The second he had a moment to spare, Jim sprinted to sickbay. The turbolifts were nonfunctional, so he clambered down the Jefferies tubes from A deck to G. He ran into sickbay and skidded to a halt, coming face to face with Bones. His breathing was ragged and his lungs felt raw and painful from running full tilt in the dry air. 

Their flight from the star system and their attackers had taken its toll. They had escaped, but just barely, able to sail fifteen light years away from the system before the warp core had been sapped of power, leaving only impulse power and emergency backup generators to run life support, and medical. 

They had screamed to a halt in the middle of uncharted space, away from any planet or vessel or soul. They were sitting ducks.

Bones stood in the dimly lit sickbay in his white uniform, arms folded over his chest. Red lighting pulsed from the alert system overhead, casting everything in dull grey and crimson. Emergency lights lined the hallways. “C’mon, Jim,” he said, sighing and rubbing his face. “Catch your breath. I’ve got him sedated, but you can see him. Who has the conn?” He asked, as he pulled Jim into a rare on-duty hug and draped an arm around his shoulders as they walked toward the restricted wing. 

“Lieutenant Commander Mitchell does. I tried to get down here as soon as we stopped, but, well-- I gave him six hours to sleep so he could take the next shift.”

“Gary Mitchell?” 

“Bones, I know you don’t like him. I’d have asked Scotty, but he’s up to his eyeballs in wiring and gears, trying to breathe life into the old girl.”

“What about Nyota? She had a cut on her head but I gave her the all clear hours ago.” “Yes, Bones-- she’s up next on the roster. She’s taken off Alpha and Beta for a good long rest-- she worked a double shift already this week.” 

“Well, any plans we make now are liable to go ass over teakettle anyhow. Speaking of which-- recently found out that Spock named you as his guardian in his medical file so, congratulations; you get to hear all the details.”

“Okay that’s-- that’s good, I guess. What the hell happened down here?”

“Jim, Listen. You gotta know-- I needed to instigate some kind of reaction--”

“You _didn’t._ Bones, what-- what did you do?”

“Just asked him some pointed questions. He had a seizure, and--”

“ _What?_ Bones, what if we have even less time now?” Jim shrugged away from him, shoving off his arm. “Just because you couldn’t wait--”

“Jim, _listen._ ” “And now we’re in the middle of _nowhere_. He--” his eyes focused on some invisible point in the middle distance. “We will never get him to a healer. I’m--”

“Please, listen to me, I--”

“I’m going to have to bury him out here, Bones.” 

Leonard took a deep breath. Jim was on the verge of panicking. He placed his hand gently on Jim’s bicep and turned him slowly. “Please, Jim.” He looked Jim dead in the eyes and willed him to match his breathing. 

In. Out. 

Jim did, and visibly calmed, but his eyes were pained and worried. 

“Jim, I know what to do. I just… didn’t mollycoddle him about what he was doing. I needed a reason-- a change in his status that could allow me to ethically intervene. Poor health or illness; that’s a grey area, interestingly enough. But a seizure? I certainly didn’t expect it to be so severe right away, but--”

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, my god.”

“But Jim… once we got to him, and got him stable; I could properly scan him. And uh, well it took a while to suss out, what with all the differences in anatomy, but I can say with certainty that he’s showing swelling in the brain that sure wasn’t there at his annual. His brain isn’t much different from your average Vulcan-- so far as we know. It looks to me like it might even be some kind of evolutionary accident, like a vestigial part gone awry. The fleshy fold in the corner of your eye, for example-- used to be a nictitating membrane. Which Spock has, interestingly enough.”

“Bones. Get on with it. Swelling in his _brain_?”

Leonard swallowed. “I got the swelling down. But we’re stuck using steroids for now, and he’s heavily sedated so he doesn’t seize. He, ah. Jim, he had a grand mal seizure. No preamble that I was aware of, but it’s possible he’d been having absence seizures and we just couldn’t tell. Lasted 10 m total all told. He fell unassisted, so he was pretty banged up. Had to get a battering ram, then Scotty with a welding torch.”

Jim laughed without humour, rubbing his eyes. “Holy shit.”

“Jim, I need power back in here and I need to get to a starbase and fast. But I can hold this off, and I might have found a way to save him. Now Romulus--” 

“Split off from Vulcan at the time of Surak. Yeah, do they--” “I had to ask the computer some very awkward questions, but yes. Romulans experience a rutting season.”

“Lovely.”

“It’s not all that different from humans, to be honest. It depends on hormone cycles, and it’s affected by hours of SPF exposure, and so on. Irritability, loss of appetite. It’s a cyclical, huge spike in excitatory hormones-- and Vulcans have a far higher spike in these hormones, and they rise to toxic levels if the mating drive is not sated, which releases a wave of calming hormones-- _and_ the bond is needed to calm brain cells stirred up by the extra electrical activity. What’s going on with Spock is that he’s reached sort of the tipping point, if you will. His body won’t stop producing the chemicals and he can’t filter them out; hence the seizure activity. It’s not likely many of them get to this stage; they learned as a culture that the bonding ceremonies saved lives, and it remained unquestioned as they developed a scientific canon.”

“So what do we do? Keep him in a coma indefinitely?”

“No, we synthesize the right hormones to take him back down again, it’ll stop the seizures-- but until we can get the cycle to stop, we’ll have to keep dosing him, and I’m afraid his body will outpace us pretty quickly. Get this ship working and get us back to civilization, Jim.”

“We’re trying. Christ. What are you going to do in the meantime? I can have engineering reroute as much power as possible, but--” Jim suddenly became animated, moving to the wall panel intercom in one stride and depressing the call button. “Kirk to engineering-- Mister Scott? How are we doing?”

There was a clattering of metal as some heavy tool clattered to the hard floor, followed by some swearing, heavily accented with a Scottish burr. Someone hollered for Scotty to answer the comm, and was answered with another blue streak. The echo of heavy boots approaching sounded through the tinny speaker. 

“Ach--” he coughed and sniffed. “Scott here, Cap’n.” He dispensed with any niceties, but Jim could hear his exhaustion in his breathing, likely working in the dark. And engineering would be colder than usual, with the power shortage. 

“Sorry, Scotty, I know you’re--”

“In the thick of it, aye.” “I’m ordering an evac of all decks not directly involved in operations and repairs. I’d like you to divert power once everyone has cleared out and the decks are sealed. Reroute emergency power running those areas directly to sickbay.” “Copy that, sir. In that case, can you send me some more warm bodies up to the task? I’ve commandeered Chekov to add to my little crew, but we need relief.”

“No problem Mister Scott. Make sure one of the officers taking a break sometime soon is you, and that’s an order. And Scotty? I’ll have a yeoman bring you some coffee grounds and brew a pot with a phaser, cowboy style. Kirk out.” He then made the ship-wide announcement evacuating those decks, and moved to the medbay console to direct the computer to seal all decks once emptied. 

“Jim, as soon as that power is back online, I can have the necessary chemicals synthesized within a few hours. Why don’t you go and get some sleep-- and _you_ can consider that doctor’s orders. I don’t want to see you back here for eight hours.” Jim sighed. Bones was right. The emergency was ongoing, but the ship was stabilized. As soon as the warp core was back online, they’d be able to figure out where they were, and they could find the nearest ‘Fleet base for full repairs. 

\---

Eight hours later, Jim awoke from a blissfully uninterrupted sleep. 

“Morning, Majel-- status report.” “Good morning, sir. The ship is functioning at near-optimal levels. Engineering reports warp core functionality at 75%. Shields and defense at 85%. Non-essential decks remain sealed and inactive. Navigational systems are online and indicate--”

“That is fantastic,” he said, and the computer paused automatically. “Lights to--” he rubbed his temples and rolled his sore neck experimentally. “Let’s go with 40%.”

\---

“He’s asking for you, Jim.” Bones was smiling as though he couldn’t contain himself. Jim melted as though a dam in his heart had broken open, his emotions spilling forth as the doors slid open. He rushed in, but Bones stopped him last minute with a wide hand across his chest. “Jim, wait. He’s okay, but the drugs are only a stopgap. I was hoping for more-- and to be honest, this is…”

“Better than ‘Pregnant Gorn Day’?”

“Worlds better. But if his hormones get back up to where they were, he’ll seize again and we’ll be looking at… well. That can only be pacified with a bond, so we have to get him to either a Vulcan healer, or--” 

“Got it.”

 

 

Jim's face softened in adoration and relief, but guilt was a heavy blanket over him, pulling him down. How he could have berated the love of his life, when he was so ill. He would never be able to forgive himself.

McCoy left the room with a nod, the door sliding shut silently behind him. Jim took Spock’s hand. He was awake now, but relaxed. His head was supported by firm cushions and he made no effort to sit up, but the corners of his eyes creased with a subtle smile and he met Jim’s eyes. He squeezed Jim’s hand, and brought it up to his chest and clasped it with the other hand as well. Jim felt like he’d melt into the floor then and there, so he perched on the edge of the bed-- a rare double model; one of only two in Medbay.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. His voice sounded like a shout to his own ears in the quiet room. 

“Greatly improved, Jim.” 

Jim’s smile grew impossibly wider. He brought his other hand to join their entwined fingers. “I’m so glad. I was so scared I’d lose you, just like that.” He leaned down to kiss the tips of Spock’s fingers where they peeked out from between his own wide hands. “Bones says we can hold it off until we get you to a healer.” “No, Jim.” “No? Spock, wh--”

“I wish to…” he tilted his head, a glimmer of humour and something more fragile in his tired expression. “I wish to slake the fires of _Pon Farr_ with my beloved. As it should always be. 

Jim gaped at him. “Spock, I--” 

“I am certain.” He inhaled and closed his eyes, nostrils flaring. “I feel the effects of the sedation receding already, especially in your presence.” 

“Oh-- I,” Jim’s eyes widened. “Are we doing this _now?_ Okay, I have to--” he looked around and his eyes lighted upon the call button on the other side of Spock. He kissed Spock full on the mouth, but gently, as he reached for it. 

“Bones?” 

“Hi, Jim,” said the voice on the other end.

“Doctor McCoy is aware of my decision, and placed you on medical leave for the duration of two weeks, Jim.”

The intercom shut off, and McCoy appeared in the doorway again. “Well thank you for filling him in, Spock,” he said, wryly. “Jim, you staying?” Jim nodded. “Okay, I can have a yeoman gather anything you need from your quarters and leave it outside the door. Spock’s going to need to sleep a little longer I’d say, but he’s…” Bones trailed off in an unusual display of awkwardness. “He’s fine. There’s a kit with everything you need; don’t forget to rehydrate.” The doctor’s face was swiftly approaching purple. “And Jim,” he gestured to Jim to come closer. “There’s a neural paralyzer in that kit. It’s bright red and in its own container so you won’t use it accidentally, but… if anything goes wrong. It’ll knock him right out.” 

It was Jim’s turn to flush in embarrassment. “Thanks Bones. Really, for everything. Not only for saving Spock-- I think you may just have saved a whole lot of Vulcans caught out without a bondmate. 

Bones looked stunned for a moment, then pulled Jim into a bear hug. “Okay, kid. I’m leaving. You have the room; this suite has a WC and miniature generator, and it locks. I’m gonna have to insist you spare me the details.” 

As soon as McCoy took his leave, Jim flew back to Spock’s side. He kissed him again and Spock returned it with enthusiasm, but he was clearly fading; so Jim let him sleep with a kiss to his cheek. 

He turned to the WC and took a shower, before returning to the bed in just his lounge pants, and crawled in beside Spock. 

 

The first day

_“Is it the sex?” Jim asked, his voice quiet. “I—I understand if that’s what’s disturbing you. I hate that you’re forced into this, but,” he drove his thumb into his thigh, focusing on the pressure. “I swear-- think of it as fulfilling a need, and I’ll leave as soon as the fever has passed. I’ll take care of you.” Spock closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the glass. He could feel the ever-present buzz of Jim’s conscious, just on the other side. If only things could be different. If only he were human, or Jim, a Vulcan._

_Nauseating realization jerked him out of his reverie._

_“No,” he forced out, appalled. “Jim...I would not reject you.” His words came easier, but it was still a battle. “It is better this way.”_

_His hand fell away from Spock's neck. “Easier-- wait, your being dead would be easier? Spock!”_

_“I am sorry--”_

_“No, no--" he took a deep breath, centring himself. "Spock, it’s okay.” He shoved down his anger and renewed sorrow. The issue of suicidal ideation in a senior officer on active deployment would have to wait for another day. “Why, Spock? How could being dead ever be easier?” His face was so soft, so heartbroken. Spock’s heart fluttered as he knew it would. As it always did._

_He could not allow this to happen. Jim was too near; his refusal to see logic would see him slaughtered._

_"No place in the universe." A voice from long ago drifted up from his memory. Spock had no place in the universe; yet here he was. Leading a man who could better be described as his north star, toward certain destruction._

_“Spock. Please let me help you. I’m desperate.”_

_“I cannot allow you to endanger yourself.” His voice was weak but held a chilling undercurrent._

_"You aren't going to endanger me. And I'm not stupid or naïve, Spock."_

_“I am sorry.”_

 

Jim awoke to the feeling of Spock plastered against his back, hot like a furnace. His arms wrapped around Jim like a cage and he was pressed against him from head to toe. Jim’s back was beginning to sweat and he could feel the coarseness of Spock’s chest hair against the smooth skin on his back, slick with sweat. Behind him, Spock was breathing through his nose, the air tickling the nape of his neck, and Jim could feel his prick through their loose clothing. 

Jim kept his breathing even. Their skin-to-skin contact vibrated with some unseen energy-- a feeling Jim was not unused to, but it was far more intense than ever. When they had held hands just hours before, it was there as well, but palpably tempered by the painkillers and sedatives coursing through his body. Jim could still feel a sense of pervasive calm behind it all, and wondered what else Bones had used to calm him.

Spock began to kiss his neck with purpose, lips ghosting over the spinal processes and making him shiver where he nibbled the soft skin in the crook of his neck. Jim took his hand where it lay over his stomach and entwined their fingers, relaxing into his demanding embrace, reveling in the feeling of being loved, and wanted. He tilted his hips a little, eliciting a sharp inhalation, and Spock ground his tumescent shaft against him, letting out a whine of frustration. 

Turning around in the tight circle of Spock’s arms, Jim kissed him full on the lips once more-- this time without hesitation; with the knowledge that Spock was fine. He was more than fine. He was going to be okay, and Jim wouldn’t have to say goodbye-- he wouldn’t even have to see him paired off with some strange Vulcan that neither of them knew...

Twisting around, he framed Spock’s face with his hands. Spock stilled his motions, and looked somewhat confused at the change of pace. Jim held his gaze and his thumbs traced soothing circles on his temples, and Spock closed his eyes and relaxed into the contact. 

“Jim, please…” he managed. His words were slow like molasses, as though speaking from under a waking dream. “Do not endanger yourself.” His eyes searched Jim’s face, before falling down to Jim’s chest. He brought a hand to Jim’s torso and splayed it over his skin, thumb skittering over a nipple; his fingers fitting into the shape of ribs beneath the skin. “I am not entirely myself… I need…” he lost his train of thought and seemed to become entranced with the sight of his elegant, cool toned fingers against Jim’s golden skin. 

“Of course. Spock, let me take care of you. Please, I’m here.”

“Ashayam. Yes.”

Jim surged forward and kissed him. He drew in a ragged breath and pressed his forehead to Spock’s. They rocked together; their movements not seeking anything; but from a primal urge to move, and nervous energy. The crisp, clean sheets below them rustled, the synthetic pillows crinkled beneath their faces. Fingers caressed him wherever they could; exploring him, and tiny hairs all over Jim’s body stood up on end, pleasant tingles dancing through him. 

“I love you. I need you to know that.” Spock’s face was hot to the touch. Jim forced his body to take in a full, deep breath through his nose. Focus. “Here—one more, ok?” Jim reached above his head for the stash of medical supplies he’d shoved in behind the mattress, and grabbed another hypo. He had to stay vigilant regardless of what happened; if Spock lost electrolytes, the effect could be more disastrous than simple dehydration. Spock gave a weak nod, and Jim pressed the payload into the side of his neck as he kissed him. He threw the hypo behind him without looking and straddled Spock’s lap without breaking the kiss. 

He settled on his knees and held Spock’s face as he lavished his mouth from above. His fingers ran the length of his jawbone, and he stroked his stubbled cheeks with both thumbs. Small whimpers escaped Jim’s throat. He felt a surge of urgency through the contact between them, and realized that it wasn’t entirely his own. He fixed his eyes shut against the small beads of moisture escaping the tear duct, and they dropped down onto Spock’s cheek, catching his attention. Relief shook Jim to his core and he felt the heat of it sear through his jaws. He stubbornly kept his his jaw open and turned his face from side to side as he kissed Spock over and over again, hardly stopping to breathe.

Spock tried to move his arms, and upon finding them fixed still, struggled against them. Jim pulled off of him with effort and sat back. He cupped Spock’s ear.

“What do you need. Just tell me. Do you want me to, uh. Can I uh,” he paused, capillaries in his face filling with blood at the necessity of such blunt conversation. He considered his words carefully. “Can I bring you off first?” A kiss. “To ease the worst of it, or I can just um,” a beat. Jim swallowed. “Or, you could just fuck me now? I’m uh-- I got ready in the shower, and I’m still good.” He bit a lip, and met Spock’s eyes from under heavy lids. Spock whined in lieu of a coherent response. Jim brought his hand behind himself in one even motion; his hand skirting the exposed skin just above Spock’s waistband, tracing his knuckles up and down the outline of Spock’s shaft. 

“No, Ashayam. No, I...” he trailed off and looked up at Jim. “Stand.”

“What? Hon’—” Jim stilled. “Spock, do you need me to get something? I—”

“No. I wish to taste you,” he bit out. “Please. 

Jim raised up onto one knee and placed a splayed hand on his chest. “Oh, oh my god ok.” He kissed him and rubbed a soothing path down to his lower back. “I, um.” Spock huffed, and grasped Jim’s hips, hauling him up. Thrown off balance, his hands flew to the low headboard. Spock nuzzled and mouthed at Jim’s cock, dampening the fabric of his clothing. An electrifying feeling of intent ran like shockwave through him. “Spock...” he trailed off with a whine as Spock met his eyes.

“This,” Spock said, pawing at the fabric of Jim’s pants. “Remove…”

“Oh my god, ok.” Jim began to edge his pants down. The guilt and sorrow evaporated and all he could feel was a deep sense of need; hearts full with the promise that the need would be met-- but fear crept back in by way of Spock, and worry filled his eyes. He stopped, leaving the pants where they were.

“Ashay-- Jim. Please.”

“Baby, what is it?” He sat back down, ignoring the loss of imminent pleasure and sitting back, giving Spock space. He held him by the arms, trying to act as a steadying force.

“Jim, you will recall the Vulcan nerve pinch--”

“Spock, please. That was at least the third thing that occured to me.” He pushed his hands through Spock’s hair and slipped them to the back of his neck, easing muscles sore from extreme stress and tension. His ministrations eased into a massage, every stroke declaring his growing devotion. “I know you won’t use it.”

He leaned in to kiss Spock, slow and exploratory; and his hands continued their parallel paths, up and down Spock’s tense neck, then wiggling gently through his scalp. He thought he felt him calming, but another sob ripped through Spock as Jim came up for air.

“Oh Spock, I’m so sorry. It’s okay. Do you need water--”

A quiet sob escaped Spock, wretched and pained. “You must not allow this. Clearly, I was mistaken. The effects of the sedative continue to abate, and with my returning strength I now see my mistake. I fear--” He sounded so incredibly tired, but his speech came out in rapid fire; panicked.“My mind is abhorrent, Ashayam,” Spock said, ignoring Jim’s question.

“Spock? What do you mean?” Jim’s eyes searched his face. 

“I am not human enough to fulfill your needs, and not Vulcan enough to control my baser instincts. Those baser instincts, when aroused, are brutal in the extreme. I am not fully Vulcan. How am I to know how I will react, if my human half will render me--”

Jim smiled, but was careful not to dismiss him. He soothed Spock’s skin as his eyes glittered, darting across Spock’s face, corners erupting in crinkles. Spock wanted to kiss him.

“Render you what, Spock? Unstoppable?” He held Spock’s head in both hands and kissed his cheeks. “Don’t be so cocky.”

Spock recognized the playful banter for what it was this time, but insisted on listing off examples of his proven history of violence. “Those years ago… I revelled in my complete physical dominance over you. Had I not been stopped--”

“Spock. You stopped almost immediately. Honey,” he smiled, his eyes twinkling with hope. “I’ve been in my fair share of bar fights.” He idly soothed a pointed ear. “And you,” another kiss, “were holding back. I could feel how strong you were, and you barely even--”

Spock’s responded with a shocked sob. Jim’s face fell instantly.

“Spock?”

“The images of your face are etched in my memory.”

“Spock, wh--”

“Jim, I have seen you die. The prospect of being the cause--” his breath was growing even more ragged. His chest rose and fell too rapidly. Jim grabbed the electrolyte bottle once more and eased a few scant drops past his lips. “I enrolled in _Kohlinaar_ so that I might remain by your side, however unfulfilling it might have been, without enduring Pon Farr. I waited too long, and now must accept my fate.”

“Baby, no.” His expression turned serious, concerned. No.” Jim held his face. It was burning. He swept his thumb over Spock’s eyelids. “Please. Spock, please breathe.” He did so himself, inhaling and exhaling slowly. His eyes bore into Spock’s, wordlessly imploring him to do the same. They eased into a rhythm, breathing together for a long moment. Spock allowed the rise and fall of Jim’s chest to centre him.

Jim kissed him, holding his skull with clasped hands, his elbows on Spock’s chest. He raised himself up on his knees, but allowed himself to rest his weight on Spock’s torso, thighs and groin pressed into Spock’s ribcage. Jim found his mouth and welcomed him in, mouth lax. Jim didn’t bother stopping to breathe except through his nose when it became impossible not to. He rocked side to side in a slow rocking motion, glued to Spock. Jim tried to pull back, but came back to Spock’s mouth like a magnet. He finally spoke, gasped between kisses.

“Spock, I’m desperate,” Jim said in confession, once the worst of Spock’s panic had passed. “If there were any other way… if I could make this easier, I would.” Jim pulled away and met his eyes, still in their embrace. “But the truth is, you’re going to have to lose control. It might be terrifying for you.” He ran the back of his knuckle up and down Spock’s sternum, and the weight of him was warm and centring.

“You’ve got to have some faith in me.” He raised himself up onto his knees a few inches, still cupping Spock’s face. 

“Lose control, Spock. Let the fever run its natural course.” The last of Spock’s resolve was breaking like an ice floe in spring. “If I hurt you…”

“Well, believe it or not, I can handle myself,” he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Think of it this way, Spock. Are you angry right now? At me, or anyone else?” 

“No, Jim.”

Jim brought his hand back down. “Do you feel safe in this room?”

The words filtered through the fog in Spock’s brain, but he considered them. The door was locked shut, openable only by medical override by CMO or the Captain-- the latter of which was on top of him. The former had no interest in interrupting. There were basic medical supplies to hand, access to water, and food.

“Yes, Jim. I am safe.”

“Okay,” he said, bestowing Spock with another brilliant grin. “Just-- let me know what’s going on, and um, initiate the meld when you need to. Is that okay? That will make everything better.”

Spock looked up at Jim. An expanse of golden skin dominated his field of vision. The waistband of his pants sat untied, below his hip bones. A generous layer of subcutaneous fat lay above robust musculature, deceptively plump and round. His eyes followed a bead of salty sweat drip down Jim’s side, collecting for a moment in a fold of flesh above his waist. The simmering yearning built in pressure once again, and a whimper escaped him, unbidden. His hand flew to Jim’s hip as though magnetized.

Jim’s whole body slackened, hips cocking to one side. He returned Spock’s gaze; a smile lighting up his face-- a radiant beam of loving acceptance. Spock was struck by his sensuous, alluring demeanour; the way his spine relaxed and his body became so… pliable.

Jim slipped his hand over Spock’s, covering it and encouraging the slow but sure slide back. His fingers came to rest between Jim’s cheeks and he spread them apart with his thumb and forefinger. He probed deeper with his remaining fingers and brushed over Jim’s hole-- above him, Jim hummed and moved his hand slowly over his own cock. Spock became aware of a slick wetness coating his fingertips and as Jim slowly rocked his hips back, traced his entrance. Jim had already worked himself open.

“See? I’m ready for you. I wouldn’t--” Spock cut him off with a growl. He plunged a shallow finger inside Jim, who groaned in surprise. He thrust sharply a few times before withdrawing and spitting on his fingers. He brought them up between Jim’s legs and spread him open, fucking him to the first knuckle of his middle finger.

He changed the angle of his wrist and added his first digit, then straightened and drove in further, burying his nose where Jim’s sac met his thigh; mouthing and licking.

Then, Spock took the head of his prick into his mouth.

Jim held still for a moment, inhaling a shaky breath. “Oh my God, Spock. You are so beautiful. I--” Spock began to move his tongue, its cupped shape holding the head neatly. Jim swore. Spock sucked, holding Jim’s eyes. He held him in a soft grip in the heat of his mouth, soft lips cushioning and covering his teeth. He closed his eyes and sucked while moving forward as far as he was able. 

Jim shouted, and as Spock moved his head back and forth, he had to still his shaking hips. Spock opened his mouth and flattened his tongue on the back stroke, and pulled off to lick Jim’s shaft. He ran his tongue up and down the side. “Please, Jim.”

He didn’t need to be told again. He was so hard it hurt. He held the back of Spock’s cranium, and positioned himself before him. Preejaculate beaded on the head and smeared over Spock’s lips. He pushed forward, and stopped when he felt what must have been soft palate, shuddering. He pulled back slowly, but Spockpushed his tongue forward to take as much as he could.

Jim looked down, and their eyes locked. He pushed his cock back in as slowly as he could, holding the base of his shaft with a fist to keep from going too far, but his control was hanging by a thread. Spock seemed aware of this, though whether he read him through the skin-to-skin contact, or he simply observed Kirk’s shaking knees, Jim didn’t know. Spock slackened his jaw and slid his tongue back and forth along the underside of the head again. Spock made a hungry moan around his cock and took him deeper. He pulled his head back and began to move. He angled his head down and dove forward. Jim’s heart skipped as Spock’s mouth sheathed more and more of him, lips touching his hand before pulling back again. He bobbled back and forth twice more before Jim’s hand left his cock and grasped at the headboard once more to prevent himself from falling. The other hand tensed in Spock’s hair. Spock moaned again, long and low and elated.

“Spock. Oh my god, Spock.” Jim chanted his name, littered with little curses and adulations, like a mantra. “Oh, fuck--” the end of the word bleeding into a high little whine. “Oh fuck Spock I’m--”

In an attempt to reign himself in and resist thrusting in too far, Jim scooted his feet back. He couldn’t thrust too far, but the deeper angle gave Spock greater control over their position. Spock hollowed his throat and swallowed him down, ignoring the unconscious spasming of his throat. He hollowed his cheeks and Jim’s breathing became ragged, each exhalation releasing a soft glottal grunt.

Jim pulled out completely, the tip of his cockhead just brushing Spock’s lips. He stroked himself quickly, breathing hard; releasing fluid that dribbled down Spock’s chin. He looked up, injured at the idea Jim might take care of it himself. Just as the uncontrollable jerks of orgasm hit, Jim pushed back into Spock’s mouth; past Spock’s wet lips with a low shout, hand laid across Spock’s wide open jaw. His voice broke with disbelief and pleasure, breath and sweet little vocalizations coming faster and faster.

Jim’s hips snapped; the sole driving force chasing that slick slide of a hot, wet mouth, moving delicate skin up and down an engorged shaft. His cock twitched, and with a juddering shake Jim buried himself in Spock’s mouth; hand fisted enough of the base to prevent himself from pushing into soft palate. He came, shuddering; and Spock swallowed as much as he was able. Jim gasped and eased out, shaking and oversensitized. A bead of fluid stretched from his lip to the tip of Jim’s cock.

Jim crumpled in a heap, landing astride Spock’s, arms draped around his neck. He kissed Spock feverishly, breathing him in; mouth lax, wide and open. He groaned at the taste of himself on Spock, his body sinking deeper He reached behind himself blindly and pulled the sweats free.

“Jim…” Spock croaked. Something was wrong. He began to feel cold, and shivers wracked his body once more. “Honey? Oh my God, I--” Jim jerked out of his post orgasmic haze.

“Ashayam, I believe I cannot wait any longer.”

\--

“Spock. You are so good baby.” Jim was a golden beacon above him. What little light filtered in glinted off his hair, soaked completely with sweat as it was. He held himself over Spock’s slumped body in a squat. His erect cock curled upward, drying spit and semen sticking it to his belly. It was dark pink, only slightly darker than the blush that spread across Jim’s lower abdomen and prickled across his chest, highlighting the seam that ran the underside of his cock.

Jim smiled down at him through the strain of the position and apprehension. He held himself just above Spock’s shaft. A hot, shaking hand reached for Spock’s free hand. Spock presented him with the ozh’esta in question. “Oh baby no, here; hold my hand.” Jim pressed his palm to Spock’s and laced their fingers together. He held fast, both their arms shaking with the effort. He reached back and guided Spock’s prick and pressed the head to his hole, squeezing Spock’s hand throughout.

Jim’s face contorted with strain as he eased in the thick veridion-blushed head, bearing down. There was no friction, but the stretch was considerable, even with extensive preparation; but his orgasm had left him relaxed. He sank down, pausing every few seconds to breathe and adjust to the stretch. Spock was shaking; a full-body shudder that was part the illness, part world-shaking relief and joy and panic. He was both outside of his body and disconcertingly aware of every single nerve fibre, each singing with an overload of energy. At last, Jim took his full length inside. His fingers remained, fluttering against the point of their connection. With the last bit of stretch, Jim’s head fell back in some iteration of a prayer, and he let out a groan. Spock’s breathing was sharp and rapid as he breathed through the sensation. He could feel the delicate skin of Jim’s sac brushing against his lower abdomen as he bottomed out, the pulsing heartbeat through the walls of his channel; muscles pulsating rhythmically in response to the intrusion.

Jim’s prick lay soft against his thigh.

“Oh my fucking god.” Jim squeezed Spock’s hand and breathed through his nose, adjusting. “Don’t move, Honey. Lemme get used to that.” He bit his bottom lip hard enough to leave marks. 

Jim arched his back. He rolled his hips in increments as an experiment. He winced every few seconds, but his face brightened with pleasure. Spock quivered with overwhelming sensation. His arm that supported Jim shook. He whined.

He hung his head down, bit his lip and looked into Spock’s eyes as he began to rock, slow and purposeful. Jim kept his hand behind him, tracing the stretch. He shifted his weight off of their joined hands and onto his knees, sinking down a fraction more. 

“I need… I need…”

“Ah--,” moaned, the discomfort easing away, replaced by ripples of pleasure. “I know, baby. Okay--” he gripped Spock’s hand and rose up and sank back down again. Jim rocked up and down and back and forth in an easy rhythm. Spock was transfixed and he stared up in reverence, dimly aware that he was 

“Oh fuck-- Spock, is that better?” He bobbed up and down, gradually increasing the speed of his rolling hips. Spock hung his head back and keened; long and low. 

Jim fucked himself back onto Spock’s dick. He leaned down and kissed Spock open and willing. Spock tugged at their joined hands and Jim released him, planting his hands on the wall for support. Spock’s hands flew to Jim’s hips. He explored Jim’s skin tracing down under the roll of flesh where his pubic bone began. His long fingers reached back and he touched the stretched skin around Jim’s opening, following its path up and down his shaft. Jim cried into his mouth as they kissed and he bobbed up and down, harder and faster. His cock was hardening by the second.

His focus sharpened. He gripped Jim’s waist with both hands, his jaw clenched painfully tight. 

“Jim--” he said, a plea. “I... “ He willed himself still. 

Above him, Jim had stilled his motions. He understood. He moved up and down in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, and covered Spock’s hand on his hip with his own. He brought it to his face, kissing the palm, then placed it over his face. He didn’t know how any of this was supposed to go, but he hoped the message was clear. 

“Take what you need, Spock. Whatever you need…”

Spock’s fingers moved instinctively to the psionic points on Jim’s face. As soon as they hit their target, a surge of energy flowed through the contact, shocking them both-- and the world faded into blackness. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

He rode Spock-- there, physically, in their cloistered and secluded haven; and in their minds-- no walls between them. It was as though no walls had ever existed between them, and Jim could no longer remember a time when they had. He kissed Spock, hot and fevered; exploring and breathing him in, while he undulated his hips. He rode him, and relished the strain in his muscles and the ache in his ass and the insistent pressure inside him that kept him on edge, and yet just-- _there_. 

Eyes, still wild and frantic, met his-- and he realized-- as he tasted a bitter rush of it somewhere in the back of their shared psyche-- that Spock was still afraid. The warmth of his hand fell from Jim’s face, but he sensed they were still in some sort of meld-scape; very much connected. 

Flashes ran through Jim’s mind that did not come from himself. He saw Spock, naked and hungry and flushed green, rushing toward him-- tearing, intent on possession if not violence-- and realized he saw Spock’s image of himself. 

Taking Spock’s face in his hands, running delicate fingers over cliff’s-edge cheekbones, he kissed him; light as air. “It’s alright baby, take--” 

Spock keened where he lay back against the slight incline of the bed. Jim kept his pace-- up and down, his cock hard and untouched and sensitive. He waited for Spock to break. The strangled, restrained grip of fear had returned; strong alien hands leaving indents in the soft flesh of Jim’s sides. With his coaxing, the hands relaxed.

“Come on baby--” Jim kissed his cheeks. 

Soothing, spread-palmed paths up and down his sides, and fingers tickling the sensitive juncture under JIm’s belly-- and then another strangled cry. Jim’s motions could no longer be tolerated, he noted with a smile, and Spock grasped him by the hips firmly; stilling him and pushing him down on his cock to the base. 

“There you are. Come on--” Jim braced himself, planting his hands behind Spock’s neck on the bed. Spock held him down and thrust up inside him with abandon, feet planted behind Jim. Jim arched his back, belly toward Spock’s. The friction was enough-- Spock wrapped his arms around him and pounded inside deeper still, howling in Jim’s ear-- and with that, Jim came between them; sticky and sweet. 

Face flushed and dark with blood, hiding from Jim’s eyes in the crook of his neck, Spock chased his release and finally came, howling and crying, pulsing inside of Jim. . 

“There we go,” Jim managed. His heart was racing but he felt he still needed to guide Spock, somehow-- he took one of the shaking, clenching hands from his hip and coaxed Spock to look at him. They still rocked together, and Jim suspected he wasn’t quite done-- and might not be for some time. He pulled Spock’s hand toward his face and kissed and sucked the digits-- only enough to elicit a sob and satisfy his own impish impulse-- and placed it intently over the meld-points. 

“Now,” Jim panted. “Let’s try again--”

 

Jim saw _fractals._

In front of his eyes, he saw fractals. Their forms undulated with an unheard beat. 

He felt a flash of panic, but willed it down. There was a sense of euphoria he had to chase, here. 

The forms spun toward him endlessly, but if he slowed his breathing-- they sang. His breath _tasted_ like-- he realized he was smelling and tasting _Spock_ , and the forms coalesced. He was looking into his lover’s face. 

Spock took him-- on his back, kneading Jim’s ass and tilting his pelvis whichever way he so desired. Spock took him with Jim’s feet round his neck, screaming out in pleasure and playfully tickling the points of his ears with a toe. When they were exhausted, but the pull of the fever still would not let go, Spock took him from behind as they lay on their sides, hugging his chest. 

Days and days went by, but James Kirk hardly even noticed-- swearing that some effect or other of the meld spared him some degree of exhaustion and soreness. Spock’s typically unassailable sense of time-- often down to the very second-- was nowhere to be found. 

All that the pair knew was each other, and the marching beat of their lovemaking. They found each other, over and over; in a glowing mind-scape where their very essences fused as one, and in reality in all the ways their hearts desired. 

 

Spock had missed many details in his haste over that frantic stretch of time-- a mere blip on the cosmic scale, but that stood out like a megalith against the sky. 

The fever was gone-- but the door was still very firmly locked.

They lay together-- fresh sheets Jim had managed to make up the bed with, swatting Spock’s ass with a light flick of his fingers; giggling at his weak knees.

Silently, Spock waxed poetic about Jim’s stretch marks-- made by fast growth of muscle and a healthy diet. Perhaps they were a result of overfast growth of a productive youth, accompanied by periods of stress and a marked increase in cortisol, rendering the skin more rigid creating stria across his belly in vertical spears filed with scar tissue that he traced with lips and tongue-- "You've been down there a while, hon- you like my stretch marks?" Jim asked, voice rough with sleep, his mouth curling around the words with a self-conscious smile. "Yes Jim," Spock’s own voice was distorted as he spoke against Jim's warm skin, unwilling to part from it. He laid kisses over him, and mouthed at him; crouched over Jim with a blanket tented over his shoulders. Jim's slung his legs wide to give Spock access to _whatever_ he wanted. Spock ran the pad of his thumb and his knuckles over his soft, untensed inner thigh. the other leg lay on the bed and his cock in the middle, engorged and glistening. He did not answer Jim’s question but rather returned to his belly. Jim exalted in the attention, but somehow-- and there was the flash, running through Jim’s brain of _what I must look like, to him; beautiful and perfect, looking at..._ this.

Spock glowered and tapped Jim, demanding eye contact. He would not have this... _deprecation_ of his beloved, not from anyone-- and he broadcast as much through the bond.

_Bond._

Jim smiled softly, and propped himself up on his elbows, reaching out to touch Spock’s face. 

Spock sat back on his heels and took his hand, and and bent to kiss the dorsal side, then turned it over and did the same to the palm. The energy between them was particularly strong here, and it crackled as Spock took Jim's fore and middle fingers into his mouth and sucked, swirling his tongue and bobbing his head. jim made a sound of surprised arousal. Spock abandoned the hand, and Jim rested it on Spock’s shoulder; the saliva-covered fingers felt cold on his exposed skin. He took Jim's cock into his mouth without aid, and slid the head between his lips, calculatedly sloppy and imprecise. He cupped Jim’s sac in his hand and teased his hole with a promise, and coaxed an easy oragsm from him, relishing the sharp taste on the back of his throat. Spock crawled up over Jim’s body. He vibrated with self-satisfaction, bracketing Jim's chest with his hands, and kissed him on the mouth with a heavy urgency. 

“I have been starved, Jim-- starved of that which I did not know I so sorely needed, and after gorging myself…” he punctuated his words with kisses all over Jim’s body. “...I find that I want for nothing more.”

He cleaned Jim’s belly in a succession of long, broad-tongued licks. 

"So in short-- yes. I very much do _like_ your stretch marks.” Jim looked down at him with an expression of disbelief and he blushed a deep pink, smiling. He tried to laugh to break the tension but it came out as more of an overwhelmed squeak and he traced Spock’s face slowly with his fingertips. Spock felt a strong tug deep inside his chest as Jim’s touch beckoned him upwards. He kissed him, if only to feel him smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!
> 
> no more deleting fics 2k19


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